


Hank Gets Kicked Out Of An Applebee's

by lumbeam



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Applebee's, Drinking, Gen, Pre-Canon, hank being a mess, sizzler plates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-24 23:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16184993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumbeam/pseuds/lumbeam
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.





	Hank Gets Kicked Out Of An Applebee's

**Author's Note:**

> Hatched out of that meme of the crane tiptoeing its way near the water where the crane says "Me" and the water says "the Applebee's I was arrested at last week" (also with the help of clubafterlife)
> 
> This definitely happened. You can't tell me otherwise.
> 
> Please don't sue me, Applebee's.

Hank finally got done with his shift at 9:30. He had been working doubles for the past few days trying to focus on a particularly difficult homicide case. He had managed to find the culprit, but that was really only the beginning of the paperwork. Gavin thankfully took over in interrogating the suspect while Hank typed up a report until his fingers went numb. Captain Fowler finally relieved Hank from his shift, giving him the next day off. He was too exhausted to show happiness, instead focusing on just getting the hell out of the station for at least twenty four hours.

After driving around the rain-slicked streets of Detroit in a haze, Hank thought about what to do. He needed sleep, he needed a drink, he needed food. Not necessarily in that order. He took a right turn at the next light, looking through all the sprawl and chain restaurants. His tired eyes scanned through the bright fluorescent lights along the road until he found a pretty rundown Applebee’s at the end. “Ah, fuck it,” he muttered to himself, which was what people often say to themselves before settling on an Applebee’s. There weren’t many people there at this time of the night, now nearing 10 pm. The faint sounds of Don Henley echoed through the establishment. As Hank waited to be seated, he focused his attention on the random things hung on the walls. All remnants of a time gone by, like the ruins of Babylon. Strangely enough, Hank felt comforted by the generic Americana design of the restaurant.   
  
An android sat him at a table, despite Hank eyeing a spot at the bar. Muted television channels showed a highlight reel of the Detroit Gears game. Hank grit his teeth, annoyed to have missed the incredibly heated game.  _ Justice never takes a break, _ he supposed. Flipping through the menu, Hank tried to pass the time until the waiter got to his booth. He knew what he was going to order. It’s the same thing he’s always ordered since coming here in his college days. A steak sizzler plate. Just hearing the sounds as the food came out was enough to make his mouth water. He couldn’t care less if Applebee’s employees just heat it up in a microwave; it was one less thing for him to do. 

“Hi, my name is Anna and I’ll be taking care of you this evening!” The waiter said cheerily, setting down a glass of ice water. “Do you know what you want to order?”   
  
Hank handed the waiter his menu as he looked up and said, “Yeah, I’ll have--” He stopped in his order, noticing the waiter’s LED circling a happy blue. “Ah Christ…” He groaned.

“Is something wrong sir?” Anna asked, voice still very much upbeat. 

“I’ll have whatever you have on tap and a steak sizzler, thanks.” He said, trying to be as cordial as possible. 

“Okay, I’ll place your order for you!” She took the menu and left to get Hank a tall beer. Just what Hank needed to wind down from such a long day. 

She brought back a beer in record time, never mind the fact that there were a scarce amount of people still left for the night. Hank sucked down half of his drink as if he’d been wandering through the desert for days. In a way, he had been. No time to drink or do anything but work. He watched the highlights reel of the game as he drank the rest of his beer. The waiter, without being prompted, automatically went to fill his glass again. Maybe she could sense he’d been beaten down by the world. She was definitely right.

Some more time passed, enough for Hank to get a buzz from his drink. And yet his steak sizzler plate was nowhere to be seen. He tried to focus on the distinct crackling and sizzling of the meat and vegetables, but there was no crackling nor sizzling to be heard. 

He flagged down the waiter, who hustled to his table. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Just wondering where my food is. It’s been a while since I ordered.” His understanding of time was screwed up, he wasn’t sure if it had been a long time, but all he knew was that he was hungry, buzzed, and  _ annoyed. _

“My apologies, I’ll check on your meal.” She looked over at his empty glass. “Do you...need a refill?” She hesitated to even ask.

Hank drank the last few drops of his beer before handing it over. “Yeah, sure. It’ll go well with my sizzler.”

She quickly gave him a refill before going back to the kitchen area. Hank drank his beer a little slower, eager to eat his average steak and vegetables. 

Hank was nearly done with his drink by the time she arrived back at his table. He didn’t try to feign kindness at the sight of her, the alcohol soaking in his system. 

“I’m terribly sorry, sir. The kitchen staff seems to be a little behind--” Her LED was spinning yellow.   


_ “‘A little behind?’”  _ He repeated.

“Yes, it’s probably going to be another twenty minutes before--”

“ _ Twenty minutes?!  _ What the fuck is the hold up?!” Hank didn’t even care he was starting to make a scene. This was just the cherry on top of the shit sundae of his week. 

“Sir, please keep your voice down--”

“Like hell I’ll keep my voice down! I just want my fuckin’  _ sizzler _ plate! Is that so hard to ask, you bucket of bolts?” 

Anna’s LED went red. A portly man stormed over to his table at the sight of him getting abrasive. 

“Sir, you’re going to have to leave.” He said, more annoyed than anything. His nametag said “Greg, Manager.” He just wanted to close out his shift without one drunk guy getting belligerent to his waitstaff. Maybe tomorrow it’ll happen.

“I’m not fuckin’ leaving until I get my food!” Hank yelled.

The manager was taken aback by the beer on Hank’s breath. “You’re causing a scene. You need to leave. Or will I have to call the police?”

Hank started laughing as he took his badge out from his coat pocket. “I  _ am _ the fuckin’ police.”

Greg the manager remained unimpressed at his badge. “Either you leave, or I’ll make you leave.”

Hank polished off his beer and set it on the table with a slam as he stood over the manager. He easily had half a foot on him. “I’d like to see you try, you fuckin’ fireplug.”

Turns out the manager was stronger than he looked. He managed to shove Hank out of the Applebee’s. “Don’t think about coming back here!” He yelled before shutting the door.

“Oh and why would I? Applebee’s fuckin’  _ blows _ anyway!” Hank yelled back, though no one on the staff was watching him through the windows. He gave the finger to the facade of the building, and made his way to his car. He had enough of a buzzed brain to take the back streets home.  
  
“Fuckin’ Applebee’s…” He muttered to himself as he started his car. Before going home, Hank hit up Chicken Feed for his old standby meal. At least  _ somewhere _ didn’t disappoint him.


End file.
